


Have a Little Faith in Me

by DangerousIdeas



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cults, Explicit Language, F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Polyseed (Far Cry), Romance, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24021610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousIdeas/pseuds/DangerousIdeas
Summary: Deputy successfully ends Faith's reign, but is shortly captured. What happens when Jospeh is given a new vision for the fate of the Deputy?
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Jacob Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/Staci Pratt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first publication, so feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. I hope that you enjoy the story!

_How long has it been since I’ve been here? Perhaps it’s better that I don’t know._

Every now and then I think back to that fateful day when we arrived. I was so fresh, green and purely naive. I had seen the videos, hell I knew that Hope County had been successfully overtaken by the cult for months but I didn’t think… I didn’t think they would go so far as to hurl themselves into the chopper’s propeller just to keep their precious “Father” here. And he was so certain that God would intervene on his behalf, he was so calm through it all- and somehow he was right. Freak coincidence, or at least that’s what I tell myself.

Every time I’m in a vehicle and I hear their hymns, I shiver. I remember the sound of Joseph Seed’s voice as he sang Amazing Grace, a tune that I once enjoyed and now haunts me.

What’s even more frightening is how quickly and how _easily_ I adapted here. Like I was always destined to do this, like I belong here. Of course, in my academy training I learned how to safely take assailants down and immobilize them but to actually use those tactics for such violent and lethal means… well, I try not to think about it. Because if nothing else, I do believe in my cause. It doesn’t matter how many Peggies I kill because they have killed more, and they kill indiscriminately. Jacob’s entire purpose here is to “cull the herd”. He kills women and children like they’re nothing and he takes pride in doing so. He forces potential troops to make “sacrifices” and kill the ones that mean the most to them. Children murdering parents, brothers and sisters slitting each other's throats- and for what? To make them stronger?

No. It’s to break them in mind and body and force them to bend to Jacob’s will.

That’s why, when I kill Peggies, I don’t do it with any real malice. After all, some of them were not willing converts and they are just as terrified and confused as the survivors and rebels. As for the ones who believe, well some of them genuinely believe that they are doing what is right and that they are “saving” people- I cannot fault them for being misled or for being insane. There are of course, exceptions. One clear example is _The_ _Cook,_ he is someone who’s blood I relished on my hands and there are many more sadists and psychopaths inflicting pain on the innocent people here that I have yet to take care of.

For the first time in my life, I felt truly powerful. I had begun to believe that I was the one who was sent forth to bring down the Seed family and to bring justice to this valley. I was the one who would free the innocent people of Hope County.

What is the saying? Pride always comes before the fall?

Who knew it would be literal.

Initially, I had started in John’s region, then after liberating Fall’s End and a few other places, I migrated North to the Whitetail Mountains where I have been aiding Eli for a while and then East to help out the Sheriff in the Henbane region.

However, this balancing act became precarious. I gradually became more and more worried as my actions fell back on those I care about. After another escape from John’s clutches- he made it clear to me that anything I did to his people would be returned on Hudson. It wasn’t long after his threat that I decided to migrate up North and wreak havoc in Jacob’s region. But I was no more help to Pratt than I was to Hudson. And Jacob wormed his way into my head. That damned red room… and I know, I know in my gut that he’s been brainwashing me to do something awful to the Whitetail resistance. Every time I hear Eli’s voice on my radio, an acute pang of fear that strikes my very bones and I rarely answer him now for fear of what I might say.

There’s no way for me to know exactly how much control Jacob has over my actions. I’ve become accustomed to driving in silence for fear of “Only You” playing over the radio- it's just not a risk I’m willing to take.

So, for the time being- I’ve been disrupting Faith’s operations. It’s somehow much more manageable to deal with turkeys turning into grizzly bears, bliss angels appearing out of thin air and other hallucinations than to deal with the Seed brothers. Not to mention that the Sheriff needs my help and I don’t care as much for the marshal as I do for my fellow deputies. After all, the bastard pushed this whole situation in the first place by pressuring us to arrest Joseph Seed and then abandoned me when the helicopter caught on fire.

Besides, up until we pulled him out- he seemed to be enjoying his time in the Bliss with Faith. It was far easier to deal with the repercussions of pulling him out than inflicting further harm on my comrades.

Or so I thought.

I was suspicious of the Marshal after we pulled him from the Bliss, but I could never have predicted how strong Faith’s influence was on him, nor that she would go so far as to have him kill an innocent person and then take his own life. As if that wasn’t enough, she nearly took the Sheriff from me too.

Thankfully, I got to her first.

She was a liar, a manipulator and by all means a sorceress- but the pain in her eyes when she reached out to me was real. If not for all of the lives she had destroyed, I may have taken mercy on her.

Afterwards, I felt like a weight had been lifted. The Henbane Region was officially liberated and a third of Hope County belonged in the hands of the rebellion. Of course, there is still work to be done in the Henbane but I felt confident again. I felt that I was ready to take on the remaining Heralds and put an end to this.

In fact, it was right after I blew up Joseph’s eyesore of a statue and I was parachuting down that my hubris finally caught up with me. Perhaps, in a past life, my name was Icarus.

I knew that John had officially “Marked” me and that his “Chosen” would come for me. I was foolish to believe that I would be safe in the Henbane River with most of the outposts liberated and plenty of space between myself and John’s domain, I was wrong.

One well placed bullet through my parachute was all it took and I came hurtling towards the ground and into the waiting arms of his faithful followers. His Chosen had been patient and waited for the right time to puncture my parachute so as to not kill me when I inevitably hit the ground. As I careened towards the Earth, I could hear other shots being fired (likely bliss bullets) and cutting the air near me, only narrowly missing their target.

I did my best to brace for collision, attempting to roll but recent rainfall ensured that the soggy ground gave way beneath my boots and I slid upon impact. I landed on my back with enough force to knock the wind out of me and I laid desperately gulping air as the Chosen descended upon me. Panic and adrenaline afforded me a few good kicks and punches before they managed to inject Bliss directly into my bloodstream. After that, the rest was a blur.

____________________________________________

“-could be capable of. We shouldn’t just leave her alone with The Father.”

“It is not our place to question the will of The Father, we must simply obey.”

“I know, but I worry.”

“Do not worry brother, God will protect him.”

The sound of Peggie voices filter through my dreams and drag me to consciousness. I move slightly and my entire body protests, bruised ribs and strained muscles make themselves known and I immediately resent my wakefulness.

“She’s awake. Inform the Father.”

And with that, I hear a pair of receding footsteps but can sense another human being hovering over me. I open an eye and find myself laying on my back, staring up at the wooden rafters of Joseph’s personal church in his compound. Golden sunlight filters through the round church skylight, glimmering light particles dance in my periphery enhanced by left over bliss in my system. It takes a moment to focus before I become aware of my placement in the center of the raised wooden planks where Joseph was giving his sermon the night I attempted to arrest him.

_Of course I’m here._

I want to get up, take out my guard and get the hell out of here before Joseph shows up but I know that I don’t have a chance. Not only am I in the middle of Joseph’s highly guarded compound, my battered body threatens to shut down again and I’m finding it difficult to think through the fog left in my brain from the Bliss injection. I hear a pair of boots creaking the wooden boards as Joseph approaches, his casual gait distinct and unmistakable. I don’t bother to turn my head towards him, but instead content myself to stare up at the ceiling and cling to this last moment of peace.

“Pleasure to see you again, Deputy,” Joseph states, “you are welcome here.”

“I feel like it,” I respond sarcastically.

_Moment of peace is gone, time to get back to work._

I force myself to sit up with a small, hidden wince but such a thing doesn’t escape Joseph’s watchful gaze.

“It is regrettable that you had to be brought here forcefully,” he acknowledges as he moves to stand in front of me. He extends a hand to help me stand, and as he does I instinctively pull back. The knowledge that those very hands have gouged out a man’s eyes is seared into my brain. Joseph sighs, sounding every bit like a father weary of a bratty child and he crouches down beside me.

“Like a wild animal, you fear what you do not understand. But I will show you the light. Just as your friends have seen, so shall you.”

My vision blurs with his proximity, the remnants of the drug still hindering me. Blue eyes distorted by yellow and tattoos seeming to be alive on his skin. It’s only now that I notice his gun isn’t holstered on his leg and he doesn’t appear to have any knives on him.

“Couldn’t risk you getting ahold of something that would harm more of my people,” Joseph remarks, following my line of sight. I glare up at him, becoming more in touch with myself and my fighting spirit at the mention of harm coming to his “people”.

“Your people?” I laugh harshly, clutching my ribs, “Your ‘people’ are either murderers or forced converts.”

“We save who we can, but we must separate the goats from the sheep. Believe me, I wish it could be different but I will do what I must to prepare my flock for The Collapse. We all have sacrifices that we must make. The Lord giveth, and taketh…” Joseph replies, his mouth slanted in a frown and his eyes appear distant, as if he is no longer in the room with me. His response only serves to infuriate me.

_Who in the hell is he to feel regret? To pretend to give a shit about the people he’s killed?_

“The Collapse will never come. People are losing their lives for nothing,” I say, using the surge of furious energy to push myself into a standing position. Joseph seems jostled from his inner thoughts by my sudden movement and stands as well, maintaining the higher ground.

“You are not here by accident, Deputy. God has placed you here for a reason. You have a gift.. And I have brought you here to ensure that you use your gift for good,” Joseph asserts, his tone becoming darker- steeled by his resolve.

I straighten my back and ball my fists at my side, but internally I know that I will lose a physical fight with Joseph. Not only am I weakened, but Joseph is powerful in his own right. He puts on a face of calm and control, but underneath I can sense a roiling anger. An anger that I have been provoking from the moment I arrived and is no doubt on the edge of combustion after killing his appointed sister. His muscles ripple under his toned skin, as he reaches up and rests a heavy hand on my shoulder followed by a warning.

“Let us not shed any more blood, my child.”

_I’ve never been one to back down from a fight._

“I’m not your ‘child’ any more than Faith was your sister,” I growl as I shrug Joseph’s hand off, he lets it fall down to his side once more and there _it_ is. It’s an almost audible crack in his mask and I feel cold fear wash over me, sobering me up from the Bliss high that I had been riding since I woke up.

“Do not make the mistake of thinking that you won’t receive punishment for what you’ve done,” Joseph responds rigidly. “All sinners must confess their sins and atone before reaching the gates of Eden.”

“It’s more likely that I’ll see you in hell,” I counter and cross my arms in defiance. Joseph’s lips twitch up as if slightly humored by my reply, but his rigid demeanor remains.

“I’ve seen the Collapse, Deputy. I’ve seen the end and I assure you, no matter what happens…,” Joseph places both hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer against my will; he touches his forehead to mine without breaking eye contact. “We will see it together.”

He says it with such conviction that I find myself unable to speak in defiance of it. I can feel myself drawn into the endless yellow-tinted gaze, almost enjoying the physical connection of our foreheads and he searches my eyes. The moment is interrupted by a sharp knock at the church doors and I find myself relieved when he pulls back from me, the spell mercifully broken.

_It’s no wonder Joseph has such a loyal following_. _I need to keep my distance._

“You may enter,” Joseph announces as he pulls back from me and turns his attention to the newest guest of his church. John bursts through the door, leather coat billowing behind him as he makes his entrance.

“Ah, John, just in time,” Joseph greets.

The youngest Seed brother smiles broadly, delighted at his brother’s praise.

“I’ll entrust the Deputy to you for the time being,” Joseph states to his brother. He then turns to me, “Father” mask intact and crack mended, “You must atone, Deputy. Afterwards, you will be welcomed back into my arms and into the arms of our family.”

His words send a chill down my spine, the depth of his vow sinking into me.

_The… family?_

As if sensing my concern, the Father continues, “We must replace what has been lost. The Lord taketh.. And He giveth.”

_Replace? As in replacing Faith?_

Realization dawns and I step back, desperate to put distance between myself and the Seed brothers.

“No.” I grit out, teetering on the brink of hysteria.

_I thought they were just going to torture me._

“No?” John echoes, his teeth bared in a mimic of a grin.

“I won’t do it. I’ll never join your family. I can promise you that you’ll kill me before that happens,” I vow.

“We shall see. Until next time, Deputy,” Joseph responds.

The Father’s followers flood into the small church at their leader’s cue and surround me. I raise my hands defensively, uncertain of what will happen next but prepared to punch my way to safety. Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to put up much of a fight when a follower sneaks up behind me and I feel a syringe plunge into my neck.

“Fucking psychopaths,” I slur as the drug enters my system. A blurry image of John’s face appears in my line of sight before I completely go under. A mix of emotions gleam in his eyes, excitement the most prevalent among them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First night at John's Ranch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting slow but things will pick up soon so stay tuned ;)

This time I have the pleasure of waking up on a bed, a sight to behold considering I’ve spent most of my nights in the wilderness, sleeping in the occasional prepper’s bunker or tucked away in a tree lookout. Even when I get to sleep somewhere remotely “safe”, it’s typically on a cot or couch. I can’t remember the last time I was in a bed this _soft,_ and one with pillows no less.

I smile despite myself and the situation that I’m in. I allow myself to nuzzle further into the pillow and to appreciate it. The only way to stay sane is to soak in these little moments that I have to myself, moments when I’m not killing, liberating and strategizing against the cult.

The only thing that ruins it is the chains. I can feel the metal biting into my wrists, bound above me and tethered to the headboard. I pull against them as I open my eyes and find myself in a luxurious room. Silver light pools on the center of the bed, a large open window on the other side of the room provides a pleasant cool breeze and taunts me with freedom that is just out of reach.

I attempt to sit up and notice that I am not in the same clothes that I had worn in Joseph’s compound. In fact, instead of my flannel shirt that Dutch had given me the night he saved me from the clutches of the cult, I’m wearing a blue silk shirt much like what I had seen John wearing under his leather duster. The shirt feels heavenly, a dark hued liquid shifting and shimmering against my skin. I move under the covers to I test my body’s responsiveness and become aware that my shirt isn’t the only thing that’s changed. I’m no longer wearing my cargo pants but at least I still have underwear. I blush at the thought of John or one of his men changing me before binding me to the bed but try not to think too hard about it.

Instead, I begin to pull on my restraints to test their strength and the irony is not lost on me when I realize they’re police cuffs. I extend my legs to test my reach, however I soon find that the sheer size of the bed contains the entirety of my range of motion. I was strategically placed in the center for this very reason. Silently, I curse John. This is a whole new kind of torture.

Based on the size and contents of the room, I am fairly certain that I’m in John’s personal room. Even the pillow smells faintly of his trademark cologne- much to my annoyance. Not only that, but for him to have dressed me in one of his shirts and to intentionally leave a window open, it can only mean he’s playing with me and I don’t much care for mind games.

_I thought I had gotten past this psychological warfare bullshit when I defeated Faith. At least the bastard had the decency not to be in the bed with me when I woke up._

As if on cue, I hear the doorknob turn and John walks in. He enters quietly at first, so as not to disturb me, but he perks up when he realizes that I’m awake. John approaches the side of the bed facing the window and deliberately sits down in the moonlight as if nature had provided a silver spotlight just for him.

“How did you sleep?” He asks with a radiant smile.

I decide it’s best not to answer, lest I contribute to his amusement any more than I already am.

“Hm. I’ll just assume you slept well. You certainly _look_ better now, Deputy.”

He pauses for a moment as he looks me up and down, and then his smile deepens with a hint of mischievousness.

“How do you like your new clothes?” He asks.

“I prefer my flannel,” I reply in a flat tone.

I’m lying through my teeth, but I’m not about to give John the satisfaction of knowing how much I’ve enjoyed the small pleasure of a hand-me-down shirt that’s actually clean and is made out of such a luxurious material. John is unphased by my lie and his smile remains in place- though his expression is more one of amusement than slyness now.

“Would you feel better after a bath?”

I openly blanch at him, unable to hide my surprise.

_He can’t really mean that. It must be a trick of some kind._

_…._

_Right?_

John laughs lightly, an odd sound to hear from the sadist’s lips.

“Don’t worry, you have my word that you’ll be perfectly safe. Everything you could want will be provided and I’ll be right by your side.”

“Right by my side?”

“Well, not _literally_ … unless you want that of course.”

“I can promise you that I don’t.”

“Then, I’ll just stand in the doorway. Don’t worry, Dep, I’m a gentleman,” John assures me with extra emphasis on the last word.

My eyes narrow and I regard him silently for a moment, searching his sharp blue eyes for any hint of foul play or trick.

“Come on Dep, it’s just one small word.”

_Ah, so that’s it. He wants to hear me say “yes” to him._

“That’s quite the offer, but before I agree to anything, I’d like to know what strings are attached,” I reply pulling myself up slightly off the bed to make eye contact. John throws up his hands in mock surrender and a small chuckle. I find this friendly version of John much more disturbing than the version that cuts people’s flesh off and staples it to chapel walls.

“Have you ever considered you’re in the wrong business? You would have made a great lawyer you know.”

“You would know, John. So, what do you want in return?”  
“Hm, yes I would know. I have a certain eye for talent,” John replies, dodging my question. He slowly brings his hands up to cup my face and my body stiffens at the unexpected touch. John strokes a calloused thumb across my cheek and exhales softly in a manner that reminds me of Joseph. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was captured and chained here against my will, it would almost seem affectionate.

“What do you want?” I press, determined to keep in control of the situation. John leans back, his hands receding and resting at his sides.

“I want what the Father wants. I want to help you,” John states.

I scoff.

“You can help me by letting me go.”

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Here I am, offering you what I am certain is the only opportunity for a hot and relaxing bath that you’ve had since you got here,” John pauses and raises an eyebrow,” and you’re demanding that I let you go instead. You should learn to be more appreciative, Deputy.”

_Fuck, he has a point. The only hot water I have available out there is in the hot springs and it’s contaminated with Bliss. The alternative would be to shower in a bunker but none of the resistance fighters can afford to waste gas or electricity on something as petty as heated water for a shower. All I’ve had for a bath have been freezing and rushed wash downs before drying off and going back into the fight. I honestly can’t remember the last time I actually got to relax and let my guard down._

_But can I let my guard down? Historically speaking, John is dangerous near water._

“After what happened the last time you got me in a body of water, I’m not exactly excited about signing myself up to get drowned.” I practically spit the words.

_Had it not been for Joseph, he may have killed me outright that night._

“That was… different. I didn’t understand the Father’s vision, his _purpose_ for you at that time. Had I known, I would have never put your life at risk like that.”

John seems genuinely remorseful and it makes my hairs stand on end.

_My purpose? Does he mean as Faith’s replacement- or is there something he’s not telling me?_

I narrow my eyes, but resist the urge to ask.

_Straightforward questions won’t get me anywhere with John. It’s best to beat him at his own game and get him to tell me without even realizing._

John sighs, evidently bored of the direction the conversation has taken.

“So, will you take the bath or not? I won’t be offering again.”

I bite my lip in contemplation. It may be seen as a weakness to give in but I have literal dirt caked onto my skin, ingrained in my hair and built up under my nails. It would be nice to be clean for once, especially with such a nice shirt.

Impatient, John stands to leave before I call out to him.

“John, wait!”

He turns, eyebrow raised and triumphant smile barely repressed.

“Y… yes,” I swallow, my mouth dry from what likely be counted as my first confession to John, “yes, I would like a bath.”

His smile breaks through once again.

“Excellent. I’ll get it prepared.”

____________________________________________________________________________

_For once, I think giving in to a Seed brother was worth it._

A contented sigh reverberates across the tiled floor of the lavish master bathroom of John’s room. The clawfoot tub is the perfect length to extend my worn out limbs in and relax my strained muscles. The bubbles cover my body, which makes me feel slightly better since John insists on leaning against the doorway of the bathroom.

I had argued with him at first, making my case that he had promised he would be a gentleman. He had replied that he is behaving as promised, but he never officially stated where he would be standing in our agreement.

_A lawyer through and through. Next time, I’ll have to write up an official agreement with him and read it through to look for loopholes like this._

I feel my brow crease in irritation at the situation before consciously smoothing my features out again.

_No, not now. There is plenty of time to lament what an asshole John is later, but for now just enjoy the bath. You’ve earned it._

The pep-talk helps me to relax slightly, but does little to distract me from the knowledge John is mere feet away from me. I can’t help but visualize what it would be like to attempt an escape right now. It’s like an itch that I cannot resist scratching. As if sensing my thoughts, John clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. He then raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of his mouth pulled into a smirk.

“You wouldn’t get very far like that. Though, I must admit to see you try would certainly be entertaining.”

I hum in disapproval at the comment. He’s getting enough satisfaction from this as it is, I don’t need to add escaping from his ranch stark naked to the list. I gently swirl the scented water around me. The initial bath had been a quick rinse off, where I got all of the dirt off of me. This is technically my second bath with truly clean water to soak in.

“Time’s about up,” John states suddenly. I sit up slightly, bubbles clinging to my torso with the movement.

“Why?” I question, alarmed by his announcement.

_What does he have planned now?_

“Relax, Deputy. You have five more minutes, then you need to get dressed and then we’ll get you something to eat.”

I narrow my eyes at him, suspicion written over every inch of my body.

_First a good night’s sleep in an actual bed, then a bath and now food? This is too much. Even for someone as over the top as John- this is too much. He abused Hudson, he kills people that don’t convert and he literally skins people as his role in Joseph’s fucked up cult. Something is very wrong._

_Could he be prepping me to be killed?_

The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

John stands, suddenly very serious and focuses his full attention on me.

“I’m going to get a new shirt for you to wear,” He hesitates as his gaze rakes down my submerged body, “and I’ll find some suitable pants for you as well. Don’t do anything that you’ll end up regretting.”

John walks into the bedroom, in search of his walk-in closet but is careful to leave the door open so he can listen for mischief as I get out of the bath and dry off. The water sloshes loudly as I get out of the tub and pull the stopper. My bare feet pad across the slick tile and I envelope myself in a fluffy white towel that John had set out for me on the bathroom counter. After securing the towel, I take a moment to assess my appearance.

I still know it’s me because of the fire burning in those eyes. I treasure that fire, the burning fight that lives within me and lets me know that I’m still _alive,_ spirit still free and unbreakable. It doesn’t matter how many scars this place gives me, because it will never extinguish that light as long as I’m alive.

I clutch the towel around me, feeling reassured.

The changes in my reflection are arbitrary compared to that, and if anything they’re useful. I’m skinnier, but that just helps me to sneak around compounds; my muscles are certainly leaner and _stronger-_ and who can complain about that?

My thoughts are interrupted as John's reflection saunters up behind my own, his electric eyes capturing mine in the glass. He holds my gaze there for a moment as we look at each other in silence. The mirror provides a strange, otherworldly plane of observation as we study each other. Neither of us are without wounds from our past. John’s from the creation of the Seed empire and mine from dismantling it. His detailed tattoos provide a log of sins he’s overcome, others he struggles with and symbols whose meaning remain a mystery to me.

“Are you going to at least step out for me to get dressed?” I ask, my reflection’s eyebrow raised.

“I will turn around, but don’t expect me to leave the room. Don’t worry, over time we will build trust with each other. Until then, I will be forced to exercise certain precautions.”

John turns to leave the room and I follow after him. As promised, on the bed lies another blue silk shirt and next to it is a pair of grey sweatpants.

_Not exactly the ideal outfit… At this rate it would be preferable to have clothes that at least fit me as opposed to wearing too big pants and a bright blue shirt._

“What’s wrong with the clothing that I had before?” I ask.

“They were dirty, so I had them thrown out. Besides, these will tide you over for now. We can get you some new clothes later.”

I frown slightly but put the clothes on regardless. I have to fold the waistband of the sweatpants until they fit snugly around me and roll the pant legs so they don’t drag on the ground. As for the shirt, I button halfway down and then tie the front tails of the shirt so the silk fabric meets the waistband of the sweats.

“What about socks and shoes?” I ask, gesturing down to my bare feet.

“Since you won’t be going outside, there’s no need for them,” John replies with a fake smile.

I scowl in response but don’t argue the point any further. If I take my time and pay attention, the opportunity to escape will present itself. Barefoot or not- I’ll get the hell out of here soon enough.

“Now that you’re dressed, let’s go downstairs and get something to eat.”

John opens the door and immediately two guards enter and stand on both sides of me. Neither makes a move to grab me but their presence is a reminder that any attempt at escape will be hindered and punished. We go down the hall and descend the stairs together. The giant windows of John’s Ranch show a blue streaked sky, hinting towards a beautiful sunrise.

_We’re probably having breakfast then._

My stomach rumbles at the thought of my favorite breakfast foods. An actual home cooked meal sounds beyond wonderful in light of the canned foods I have been eating for… well, for as long as I’ve been here.

We enter the grandiose kitchen where another cult member is waiting for us. This particular follower has his hair tied back and is wearing a stained apron. I want to roll my eyes despite my excitement for food.

_Of fucking course John has his own personal chef._

John motions for me to keep following him and we pass through the kitchen into the dining room. A large dining table, with enough room to seat twelve people takes up the majority of the space and a large antler chandelier provides light. Two places at the table have been set. John sits down at the head of the table and I am seated by my guards a couple of seats down on his right. It’s then that I notice the distinct lack of cutlery provided to me. John has a silver fork, butter knife and spoon and I only have a plastic spoon. I hold it up in front of me, elbow propped on the table and frown firmly in place.

“You’re joking, right?” I ask.

“Not at all, you’ve caused enough heartache to my family as it is. I won’t risk a misplaced fork being the demise of even more of my men.”

“You didn’t even give me a metal spoon.”

“You don’t need one. If this is going to be an issue, then you are welcome to return to the room.”

The threat leaves me resentfully quiet. Despite how shitty the situation is, I do need to eat. It won’t be of any use to me to escape if I don’t even have the energy to run away when the time comes. John, seemingly pleased with my silence, snaps his fingers and food is brought in. It’s a light and classic breakfast spread with biscuits, jam, eggs, sausage, fruit and pancakes. I take my pick and eat in continued silence, reveling in the rich taste of the freshly prepared food.

As I eat and drink, I feel my mind and body relax. I feel grateful for the food, a full stomach for once leaves me feeling content. I continue to eye John throughout our meal, however I don’t find myself feeling as malicious towards him at the moment.

“Enjoying your food?” John asks.

“I am actually,” I reply.

John responds with a pleased smile and I find some small part of myself sensing that something is wrong about this, though I couldn’t say what that is. John finishes his food and stands, he walks over to my side of the table and extends a hand to me.

“You’ve been very well behaved so far. However, I have some business to attend to and I’m certain you must still be tired. Let me take you back to the room.”

To an extent, he’s right. The meal must have taken its toll because I feel drowsier than before. After the unexpected kindness of a bath and this food, I don’t have it in me to argue with the youngest Seed brother. Instead, I nod my head and take his hand without a characteristic sarcastic quip. John radiates with satisfaction by my strangely docile behavior.

_Don’t grow accustomed to it, John. I’m merely going along with this for now since you’ve been kind to me and because I am still exhausted. After I wake up, I’m going to escape this place._

_And once I do, I’ll be back to liberating the people of Hope County._

John leads me upstairs, holding my hand the entire time like one would a child that has stayed up past their bedtime. I remind myself that under normal circumstances I would be upset with this condescending notion- I am not a child and can walk on my own, thank you- but for once it feels nice to have contact with someone that doesn’t involve breaking necks.

_His hands are much too soft and warm for the crimes he commits…_

_His shoulders are nice and broad…._

_His arms are pretty muscular too…._

I shake my head to clear the thoughts as they go into a direction that I won’t even touch- exhausted or not. He takes me to the bed and helps me lay down, at which point I find that I actually need his help. My balance is becoming more and more precarious and my mind feels hazy.

_Damn, I didn’t realize how tired I actually am._

I allow John to re-cuff my hands without much of a fight and before he leaves the room and blissful darkness descends upon me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some demons don't die.

I awake with a headache. The kind that feels like a jackhammer on your skull and the slightest light burns your eyes. I clench my eyes against the offending sunlight coming through the window and turn my back to it, letting out a small groan.

_What the hell? Am I coming down with something?_

I hear movement outside of the door and find myself slightly disappointed when one of John’s followers enters instead of him.

“How long was I asleep?” I rasp, my throat unbearably dry.

“Not long. Would you like some water?” The man offers.

I nod my head in response and he lifts a glass of water to my lips. I feel better almost instantaneously as the liquid coats my throat.

“Thank you,” I say in a clearer tone.

“You’re welcome,” the man replies before leaving out the door without another word to me.

I watch the door as he closes it and debate whether or not to try to get out of my restraints now. I tug slightly but the metal cuts into my wrists and I sigh at the pointlessness of it. It’s not like the cuffs magically became weaker during the night. Instead, my best bet is to try to escape when I’m already uncuffed. So far the list of opportunities is short; I either have to escape from the bathroom or escape on the journey between the bedroom and the dining room.

_Play it safe and wait for the right opportunity. If I rush things, I’ll just ruin any chance of getting out of here._

I feel sleep tugging at my mind as I lay there with nothing to else to do and I decide to give in.

_What’s the harm in resting up for now? I’ll take down some bad guys and escape later._

___________________________________________________________________________

The next time I wake up, John is in the room with me. I find myself simultaneously relieved and worried by this discovery. At least when he’s with me, I know he’s not harming anyone else, but I can’t help but wonder how much time he’s spent with me while I’m unconscious.

“Look who’s awake,” John purrs.

He is situated at a desk in the corner of his room that I hadn’t noticed before. Various documents are piled and scattered around his workspace but John doesn’t seem to be bothered by the chaos as he leans back in his chair and focuses on me. I sit up as fully as I can manage despite the restraints, using the headboard for support.

“Are you hungry?” John asks, eyeing me.

I shake my head in response. After going so long without food, I feel like overeating now could be detrimental to my health.

“Hmm, suit yourself,” John remarks and turns back to his work.

I watch him for quite some time as he pens down thoughts and ideas on whatever project he’s working on for the cult. It’s almost soothing to see such a violent man taking time to do something as simple and mundane as write.

I look out the window and take note that the sun is setting. Distantly, I wonder how much time I’ve actually spent in his bed. I consider asking John, but I have a feeling that he wouldn’t be straightforward with me.

Eventually watching John’s back becomes boring to me and I move to lay back down. But even prone, I am unable to sleep. I’ve slept more lately than I have in total since I first arrived here and now restlessness eats away at me. If I had it my way, I would be running through the woods and scaling cliffs but there’s no way John would allow for that, despite his recent kindness.

_And why is that?_

_Why is John being so nice to me?_

_Doesn’t he want to literally bleed a confession from me? Doesn’t he want to torture and punish me for taking Faith from their family?_

The thought doesn’t sit well with me and Joseph’s decree that I’ll join the family is still fresh in my mind.

_Is this what he meant? That they’ll be nice to me until I just give in and join them?_

I scoff outwardly at the absurd notion.

_That will never happen._

I begin to feel myself stirring, my fire coming back as I stew in the memories of the atrocities the Seed family has committed in the name of their cause. The _Baptist_ in this room is no different. Sensing the change in mood, John turns in his chair and looks at me with an exhausted expression.

“Are you thirsty?” He asks.

_Yes._

“No,” I lie.

“Don’t lie to me,” John growls, “It’s been over 12 hours since you last had something to drink. Let me get you some water.”

_Ah, so I’ve been asleep for twelve hours then._

_…_

_But is that right? One of John’s faithful came in just this afternoon (at least judging by the sunlight), and now it’s evening- so it’s either been more than twelve hours or much less than that._

“I don’t want any.”

“Maybe you’ll feel better if you drink some.”

I shake my head in response, but John leaves to get some water anyways.

_What in the hell is this? I’m fighting against my captor for water. This is so backwards. It doesn’t make sense._

_Why doesn’t he treat me like…_

_Like…_

My mind draws a blank.

There’s someone, someone very important to me that John knows or _has_ in his possession. Their name remains frustratingly out of reach for me.

_Who is it?_

My thoughts are interrupted when John comes back in holding a small glass of water. He approaches the bed and I stiffen from his proximity.

“Here,” he offers, extending the glass towards me.

“No, I don’t want it.” I scowl.

He frowns in response but doesn’t retract the water from me. I contemplate kicking it from his hands but decide the consequences wouldn’t be worth it.

“Drink it now,” John commands; his eyes flash with an unspoken threat.

“Or what?” I challenge.

John glares down at me for a moment, expression darkening to something frightening and closer to the John I knew from before and then- in the next moment- it’s gone and forced concern takes its place.

“You’ll feel better,” He insists.

I regard him silently for a moment, searching for some clue as to what in the hell is going on.

_Is this worth fighting him for? If I give in and just drink some water- which I need anyways- then it will make him happy. Resisting this is stupid._

I hesitate, uncertain what the right choice is. My gut tells me that something is up but I can’t place it- just like when I was eating breakfast.

_Then again, nothing bad happened at breakfast…_

“It’s all about trust Deputy. If you drink the water, then you’ll be rewarded.”

“Rewarded how?”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. You have to drink it first.”

I sigh in resignation and nod my head. John cups the back of my head and tips the glass for me so that I can get a decent drink. Surprisingly, he’s right. The moment I swallow the cool liquid, I find myself refreshed.

“Thank you,” I whisper, surprising myself at the vocalized acknowledgment. John hums in approval and lightly kisses my forehead. I passively receive the affectionate token, although some part of me recognizes it as a missed opportunity for a headbutt.

Thirst quenched, I no longer feel as restless and I nestle back down into the comfortable bedding.

_It feels wrong to sleep so much but what else am I to do? There’s nothing for me to use in the bedroom to my advantage and the one window doesn’t provide much information on the route that the guards take when patrolling John’s ranch._

“What about my reward?”

“Later, Dep. For now you should rest.”

John stands and goes to the window, drawing the window curtains closed before returning to his desk. I watch him for a while as he toils there, wondering at the man he could have been if he had simply chosen a different path. John sings quietly to himself, and perhaps to me.

“Help me Faith, Help me Faith,

Shield me from sorrow,

From fear of tomorrow,

Help me Faith, Help me Faith,

Shield me from sadness,

From worry and madness…”

_Bit late for that John._

“Lead me to the Bliss…”

Despite the nature of the song, I decide to focus on John’s voice instead of the lyrics and allow the tune to lull me back to sleep.

____________________________________________________________________________

Before I open my eyes, I already know I’m not alone.

I can sense her there, standing by the window- emerald eyes searing me in the dark.

It takes a moment for me to focus on her, distracted by shifting shadows that start to close in and suffocate me. The only reprieve from the oppressive black is the a distorted line of moonlight peeking through the drawn curtains.

She is positioned to the right of the window, just outside of the puddle of milky light on the floor. The skin of her body is white ink mixed with water, swirling and flowing of its own accord. I sit up slightly to better face her and my heart tinges with a heady mixture of remorse and apprehension.

This experience is reminiscent of the Bliss trips that she put me on right up until the minute I ended her life. This is her realm, and she has the power- especially now that I’m chained up and entirely vulnerable to her.

I look around desperately for anyone else- for John- but it’s just me and her. I consider calling out for help, but her voice stops me.

“Hello Deputy,” She greets, sounding unusually wry.

“Hello Faith,” I whisper back.

_Why is she here?_

_I thought this was over, I thought I finished this._

Sudden panic seizes me at the realization that this may _never_ be over. I killed her, and as a reward the Seeds appointed me as her replacement- she has more of a reason to kill me now than ever.

I begin tugging harshly on the handcuffs, hoping against hope that they’ll come off and I can run far away from here- or at the very least have a chance at defending myself- but it’s no use and the restraints remain firm. Faith steps towards me, her feet barely touching the ground as she draws closer.

“What do you want?” I ask, eyes wide.

The wave of panic builds to a flood of hysteria.

_Please go away._

Faith smiles and the air around her glimmers, a halo of light forms around the crown of her head. She lifts her arms up and spreads her hands out; transparent and shimmering butterfly wings sprout from her back with the motionand she floats higher into the air, lingering at the edge of the bed.

_Go away!_

“I want you to come with me, Deputy. You belong with me… with _all_ of us. We’ve been waiting for you- even the Marshall wants to see you.” She answers, her voice deceptively warm.

“No! I’m not going,” I yell, and I begin yanking against the chains in earnest, unconcerned with the way the metal bites into my wrists. I swing around and place my feet against the wooden headboard to give me more leverage as I pull. Faith floats to my side and places a hand against my shoulder.

“Don’t fight it. If you do, you’ll only make it harder on yourself,” Faith says, her grip tightening painfully on my shoulder. My lungs constrict as if a weight has been placed on my chest and I find it harder and harder to bring air. I shake my head and continue thrashing and gasping for air. Blood slicks my wrists as the cuffs dig into my flesh and the wood creaks but nothing gives way.

“Get the fuck back!” I scream, wrenching my shoulder from her grasp and kicking out at her in desperation.

To both of our surprise, my foot connects with solid flesh and I feel overwhelming relief as Faith stumbles back.

“What the hell!” Faith exclaims, but the voice coming from her is not her own. It’s a man’s voice… one that I vaguely recognize.

In my shock, I do nothing as the back of Faith’s hand raises up and comes down connecting with my cheek and snapping my head to the side with the force of it. In that instant, it is no longer Faith standing before me but instead a blurry image of John.

I blink rapidly, the sting on my cheek grounding me as my hazy mind struggles to catch up with what the fuck just happened.

John reaches his hands up- I flinch with the sudden movement, but that only slightly hinders him as he gingerly cups my face. His face comes into focus and I notice that his brow is furrowed with worry and his mouth is set into a downward slant. Golden light from the hallway illuminates the once dark room and casts dramatic shadows on his angular features.

Reality gradually sets back in. Small ethereal lights remain in the edges of my vision but I know that what I see before me is real. Faith- and the green aura that enveloped her- are mercifully gone.

“Take deep breaths Deputy,” John instructs in a firm tone.

I try to obey his instructions and take in a deep, steadying breaths but I struggle to calm down. My nerves are entirely on end and my heart is beating thunderously against my ribcage. John gently slides his hand from my hurt cheek to my forehead and pushes back sweaty strands of hair.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his voice distorted with concern. I don’t respond, uncertain of whether or not I can. My whole body is shaking and distantly I’m aware that my wrists are bleeding, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Instead, I focus wholeheartedly on John, keeping my eyes locked with his. He is the anchor that is grounding me to reality and I don’t feel safe enough to look away, lest Faith reappears and drags me to hell with her.

John sighs, moving his hands down to my upper thighs and resting his forehead against mine. Normally such an intimate gesture would be unwelcome, but in this moment I would crawl into his embrace if he offered.

“Would a cool shower help?” John asks softly as he pulls back from me. Internally, I scream for him to come back- to give me something to hold on to- but outwardly I merely nod my head. John produces a key from his pocket and unlocks the cuffs, mindful of my self-inflicted wounds. Freed from my restraints, I scoot to the edge of the bed but as I go to stand John lifts a hand up to stop me.

“Allow me,” John commands.

Startled, I gasp as tattooed arms reach around me and lift me up bridal-style. I openly gape at him as he carries me to the bathroom, his grip gentle but firm.

“This isn’t necessary,” I mumble, feeling embarrassed but John ignores me.

He gingerly sets me down on the large bathroom counter and then makes quick work of turning on the shower positioned on the opposite side of the clawfoot tub I had used earlier. I watch him intently as he rolls up his blue sleeves to test the temperature of the water.

It feels surreal to have a moment to actually breathe and attempt to cleanse my mind and body. In previous Bliss trips, I had woken up alone in the wilderness or in the jail with the Sheriff beside me. With little time to waste on recovery, I had gathered my things and thrown myself back into the fight without a second thought.

John, now satisfied with the readiness of the shower, approaches me and braces his hands on either side of me. He leans in, azure eyes studying mine and I attempt to appear calm and in control under his scrutinizing gaze.

“I’m fine, really,” I assure him, “I need you to step out for a moment so I can strip down and get in the shower.”

John hesitates, his grip on the counter knuckle white as he contemplates whether to believe me or not, and I find myself mildly amused by his concern considering the fact that I am his prisoner and I’ve suffered far worse by his siblings’ hands.

_It’s only because he wants me to join his family._

Then, for a brief moment, I see something flash in his eyes that looks suspiciously like guilt.

“Okay,” He relents, stepping back and releasing me. He turns around and makes a show of putting his hands up in a “have it your way” gesture as he walks to the doorframe. Feeling satisfied now that his back is turned, I slide down from the counter. I’m pleased to find that my feet catch me with ease, as some part of me feared I wouldn’t have proper balance this soon after the experience.

I carelessly throw the borrowed clothing into a pile on the tile floor before stepping in the shower. The cold spray of the shower helps to focus my mind and calm me down.

I stand for a few moments, allowing the water to glide down my face and coat my skin. My wrists sting and crimson mixes with the water as it circles down the drain but I ignore it for now, attempting to clear my mind before I allow myself to fully contemplate my situation and what triggered the…

_The what?_

_Nightmare?_

_…Hallucination?_

The experience was close to a Bliss trip, but not quite like one I had ever experienced before. We were still in John’s room after all, not in a grassy field or atop Joseph’s statue.

_Though Joseph’s statue wouldn’t be an option either since I blew it up right before they captured me._

The thought brings me some satisfaction.

_Could it be that during the last Bliss trip I had fried something in my brain? If so, why did it take so long for me to have another vision of her?_

The shower knob squeaks as I shut off the water and step out to grab the fluffy towel waiting for me there. After drying off, I notice that the pile of clothing is gone from the floor and John is no longer standing in the doorway. I glance to the counter and spot a new set of clothing placed for me there.

I dress quickly and enter the bedroom fully expecting John to be at his desk or sitting on the bed but he’s nowhere to be seen. I raise an eyebrow, uncertain of what to do next.

I decide to stride over to the door of John’s room and half-heartedly attempt to open it. As expected, it’s locked so I move to John’s work desk next, unbearably curious as to what he was working on throughout the night.

_If I can’t sneak out, I may as well snoop._

I’m disappointed to find most of the papers have been cleared away, leaving only a leather binder with the cult insignia rests in the center of the once cluttered desk. I pick it up and flip it open to find a detailed ledger of supplies.

_Here I am, finally free to roam about the room for the first time since I got here- and all I’ve uncovered is where John is storing the cult’s food._

Frustrated, I toss the ledger back on the desk before turning to my last option- the window. I walk over and pull back the edge of the curtain to peek outside. It’s still dark out, but the position of the moon tells me morning is on the way. I glance around and there doesn’t appear to be any guards in sight.

My pulse quickens.

_Is this my chance?_

Deftly, I unlock the window and reach down to pull the pane up but it doesn’t budge. I grunt softly and curl my hands around the small metal lip of the window, using my legs to try and leverage it up- to no avail.

“Mother fucker _,”_ I curse under my breath, feeling an overwhelming temptation to simply throw something through the glass and jump out.

I begin to pace the room for a heavy, throwable object to do just that, when I hear John’s voice in the hallway and I freeze mid-step. Faintly, I can hear John talking with a follower whose voice I recognize. My brow furrows and I strain my ear in an attempt to make out what they’re saying.

“Deputy….should have told me…. Too much for her!…”

John’s voice occasionally rises with irritation and then lowers to a level that I can’t understand. The mention of my title peaks my interest and I slink over to the heavy wooden door, pressing my ear against it.

“I’m sorry John, it won’t happen again,” the follower vows.

“It _can’t_ happen again. This is important to us- to The Father. You will not be warned twice,” John scolds.

“Yes, John.”

Two pairs of footsteps begin walking down the hallway towards the room and I step back from the door. In my desperation to appear innocent, I fling myself on the bed and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling when I hear the key click in the lock. As the door knob turns, I angle my head towards the sound.

A cult member, (who I now recognize as the one to bring me water last time), opens the door and John walks in first- surprising me with what he’s carrying. The youngest Seed brother presents a bottle of whiskey in one hand and two glasses in the other. Behind him, his assistant holds a large med-kit.

“I believe that I promised you a reward earlier,” John states with a broad smile.


	4. Chapter 4

“I was thinking something along the lines of a.. umm,” I frown, uncertain of what exactly I was expecting.

“A walk outside,” I finish, “not a bottle of liquor.”

I rise off the bed and stand with my arms crossed. With my sudden movement, the cult member’s eyes widen and he lingers in the doorway; looking every bit like a rabbit at the entrance of a fox den.

A secret smile tugs at my otherwise disapproving expression at his reaction but I refrain from making a biting remark. It’s enough of a confidence boost to see fear emanating from him now that I’m not in handcuffs.

John either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. If anything, he seems relieved to see me standing before him.

_If I hadn’t gotten distracted, I wouldn’t be._

“I don’t think we’ve come anywhere close enough to warrant time outdoors just yet, my dear. Though, I do appreciate your enthusiasm,” John replies smoothly, setting the bottle and glasses on his desk.

Just as he seems like he’s going to angle his head to say something else, he pauses and his focus is brought down to his leather bound ledger that is in a noticeably different position from how he left it. He stares at it for a moment, and I brace for his anger, but no outburst comes. Instead, John silently readjusts the ledger to its rightful place and then turns around to face me, leaning his back against the edge of the desk.

He then wordlessly motions for his follower to administer medical aid to my wrists. I watch John as he crosses his arms, body tense as the cult member kneels before me and requests that I extend my wrists for him to clean and wrap.

“I’m David, by the way,” the follower states suddenly, his voice small with fear.

I tear my eyes away from the dark haired herald and merely blink at the cult follower.

“Oh, uh… nice to meet you, David,” I reply feeling uncomfortable with the very _human_ response to the suffocating atmosphere.

_It would have been easier to remain in silence._

“I’m sorry that you got hurt,” David comments, as he finishes his ministrations on my right wrist and moves to the left.

“It’s not your fault,” I mumble.

_Why am I reassuring him?_

David looks up at me, his soft green eyes a welcome reprieve from the intoxicating blue of the Seed brothers. His shoulders sag, as if carrying a heavy burden and a deep sigh leaves him.

“I wish that were true. Please,” he says, forcefully clasping my hands in his,” forgive me!”

“What?” I ask, thoroughly confused. I attempt to pull my hands from him but his grasp holds firm.

“Get out!” John suddenly bellows, standing in alarm.

“But I-“ David starts, releasing my hands and practically leaping back from me.

John strides across the room and inserts himself between us, his back to me- towering over the much smaller David.

“Get. Out.” John grits out between clenched teeth.

David scrambles to the door quickly and closes it firmly behind him. John and I remain in silence as we hear David’s hurried footsteps race down the stairs and hear the front door to John’s ranch close. John inhales deeply through his nose and lets out a long exhale before kneeling to clean up the scattered med-kit that had been tipped over in David’s frantic exit.

“Care to explain?” I ask quietly- _softly._ As much as I want to know the truth, I also don’t want to push John’s temper too far and he seems precariously close to the edge. I had been given a taste of John’s wrath before and I’m in no particular mood to experience it again right now.

“He saw your wrists and felt guilty. He knows how important you are to the family- to Joseph- so naturally he feels accountable for any injury you sustain under his watch.”

John keeps his back to me as he answers and his voice is deceptively even; I would almost believe his act if it wasn’t for the tensed muscles of his back and straining of his neck.

I glance down and rotate my wrists to inspect them. The right one is immaculately dressed, clearly done with practiced hands. The left one, however, is still in poor condition. David had only gotten as far as cleaning the wound, but there are no bandages to protect the sensitive flesh.

John turns from his kneeling position to face me, as I inspect my wounds. His expression shifts from one of acute frustration to mild concern.

“Let me help you with that,” he offers, digging gauze out of the med-kit.

“I’m alright,” I reply, not bothering to meet his gaze.

John glares down at me, making it clear he won’t accept any more petty argument.

“I wasn’t asking. Now sit,” John instructs in a firm tone.

I hesitate for just a moment, my natural reaction to resist, but ultimately I obey and seat myself on the edge of the bed. I wordlessly present my left wrist to him and watch as his fingers gently wrap the medical material around my wrist.

_A Baptist, pilot, cult herald, and medic all wrapped into one anomaly of a man._

“Do you really believe Joseph?”

I blurt the question without a second thought and John glances up to me briefly before answering.

“You know, everyone thinks Joseph is crazy. But look around you Deputy- look at the state of the world. You can feel it, can’t you? It’s on the edge of breaking,” He looks back down at my wrist as he ties off the gauze and carefully cradles my hand there as he continues, “I know that you don’t believe, but soon you’ll see that Joseph- the _Father_ \- is right.”

The conviction in his voice makes me swallow throat dry and I retract my hand from his open palm. I think to some extent, I had hoped that John didn’t really believe in Eden’s Gate, that he had merely sought power and influence.

My gut twists in knots as I look at this powerful man kneeling before me that is so convinced that The Collapse is upon us. Convinced enough to torture and kill people in the name of The Project.

_Convinced, or **manipulated**?_

I shiver as the memory of Joseph’s faithful crawling all over the helicopter; people so genuinely desperate and in despair at the thought of their leader being taken from them that they willingly hurled themselves into the chopper blades.

_John, being the youngest of the brothers, would be the most susceptible to manipulation._

“Now, about that drink,” John continues with a wink.

I admire my bandages as John stands, I find strange comfort in the familiar _pop_ of the cork and the gentle slosh of the amber liquid.

_Perhaps alcohol isn’t the worst reward, after all. I could use something to take the edge off._

John re-materializes in front of me and holds out a half-full glass to me. I accept and throw it back into my throat without taking time to appreciate the hidden notes of the rich drink. The liquid burns a trail down my throat, but I find the experience cleansing- as if burning away some of the bullshit I’ve dealt with from the Seed family as of late. John pauses, mid-sip in his own glass, but declines to voice his opinion. Instead, he merely takes my glass and refills it. Upon his return, I immediately swallow it all at once and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Do you know how expensive this is?” John asks, exasperated before walking back to the desk. This time he leaves the glass behind and only brings the bottle.

“This was your idea of a reward, not mine,” I reply, with a drop of venom in my voice.

“And you should be grateful for it!” John seethes, fingers clenched around the neck of the whiskey bottle. Tense silence once again fills the room and drags on without a young faithful here to break it. John lifts an inked hand runs and through his dark hair, smoothing it back.

“For fucks sake…” He mumbles to himself and tosses the bottle to me, “Drink as much as you like. We don’t have many more nights like this to enjoy anyways.”

I catch the bottle easily and cradle it in my hands, absentmindedly running my thumbs over the embossed letters of the label. I remove the cork and swig directly from the bottle, already feeling buzzed.

John turns off the main light of the room, leaving only the warm glow of the lamp on his desk and the remaining moonlight to fill the room.

He then saunters back to me and reaches out for the bottle and I wordlessly pass it to him. The young herald follows my lead- gulping down a mouthful of the fiery liquid before handing it back to me.

_Evidently this is as much of a reward for him as it is for me._

We continue on like this, in reverent silence for some moments before John sits next to me on the bed and lays back, extending his arms on either side with a heavy sigh. His openness and vulnerability surprise me and I lay down on my side next to him feeling more at ease.

I absentmindedly ball my fists and expand my fingers to their fullest extent and then ball them again- like a cat extending and retracting its claws with the knowledge that I could climb on top of John, pin him down and strangle him if I chose to do so.

_But I won’t. Not right now… the timing isn’t right…_

Instead of plotting escape, I find my mind- and my vision- wandering elsewhere.

I’m irresistibly drawn to the tantalizing sliver of tattooed, tan skin showing between his dress shirt and black jeans.

I giggle slightly, despite myself, at the absurd notion of finding my captor attractive and then the small innocent sound erupts into raucous laughter.

“What?” John asks, a genuine smile gracing his lips at my apparent good humor.

“Nothing… nothing…” I reply breathlessly, raising my hand to my mouth to stifle the sound.

“Dep-u-ty,” John draws playfully.

He props himself up on his elbows, and my eyes are drawn to the exposed skin of his chest where “Sloth” had been carved, and then crossed out. John follows my line of sight and his smile deepens knowingly.

“Ohhh,” he remarks in a lower, sultry tone, lifting one hand to undo more buttons.

My laughing stops abruptly and I find myself simultaneously entranced and astonished by his forwardness. John takes his time as his nimble fingers reveal more and more of his muscular chest, basking in my undivided attention and reveling in my unfiltered reaction.

_What is he doing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alcohol is used as a plot tool in this chapter- but on a real note, I don't believe in using it as a coping mechanism. 
> 
> It's merely the most realistic way that I could see John and the Deputy letting down their guard ;)
> 
> I don't mean to be such a tease with this ending, but I pinky swear more is to come soon


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised: this is a NSFW chapter.

My breath hitches as he removes the last button of his shirt, his abdomen laid completely bare to me. There’s a large Eden’s Gate tattoo just under his naval, but I can’t quite see what it is because the dark material of his jeans cuts off my line of sight.

Slowly, I extend my hand and rest my open palm against the warm skin of his upper chest; emboldened by the alcohol coursing through my veins and unbearably curios as to whether or not the hard planes of his muscles feel as good as they look.

_They do._

This time, it’s John’s breath that catches. The sound sends a pleasurable chill down my spine and some part of me wonders at what other delightful noises I can draw from him.

Feeling more confident, I place another hand on his chest and push him back to a prone position on the bed, using the momentum to seat myself on his lap. I gaze down at him triumphantly at the realization that he’s already hard.

John doesn’t fight for dominance as I expected him to, but instead accepts his new position and merely raises his hands to grip my hips in silent compliance. I lean back, sitting up fully and briefly pausing to appreciate the sight before me. The youngest Seed brother is all tattoos and toned muscles and completely vulnerable beneath me. I revel in the feeling of straddling the self-proclaimed Baptist and begin grinding experimentally against him; the movement eliciting a deep moan from both of us and I dig my nails slightly into his chest.

_This is not good…_ some deep part of me warns.

_I’ve gone too far already, I need to stop…_

Just as I’m about to get off and put much needed space between us- John sits up, wrapping his toned arms around my ribs and buries his head in the side of my neck, his beard tickling my skin. The embrace catches me off guard and I tense reflexively, before my body responds of its own accord, melting against him and circling my arms around his torso to pull him closer.

I allow myself to revel in his embrace- the first human contact I’ve had since I got here that doesn’t involve bloodshed- and I feel a tinge of sadness as I realize how starved I am for human touch.

I angle my head to give John more access, a silent consent for him to continue and John obliges- his tongue dragging up my neck making me gasp. I can feel him smile smugly against my skin at my reaction and he tightens his hold on me while lightly sucking against my quickening pulse.

I know that come morning a dark bruise will be there- but at this moment I couldn’t care less. All inhibitions gone, I raise my slide my hands up and entwine my fingers in his hair, tugging slightly as I continue grinding against him; growing increasingly annoyed with the barrier of fabric between us. John breaks away with a frustrated grunt and reaches down to unbutton his jeans- evidently feeling the same way.

A near desperate urgency hangs in the air as we separate just long enough to rid ourselves of our clothing, with the knowledge that if either of us takes too long to think about what we’re doing then the growing need we feel for each other won’t be satisfied.

My pants slide off easily but my fingers fumble with the buttons of my shirt in my drunken haste. After a third attempt at undoing one particularly stubborn button, I whisper a small curse under my breath and forcibly rip the shirt open, popping the rest of the buttons lose and tearing the expensive fabric.

_Fuck it, John has plenty of shirts just like this anyways._

Before the shirt even lands on the floor- John grabs my hand, mindful of my wrists, and pulls me back on top of him and with his body completely bared to me- I take note that the tattoo under his naval is a crown with the Eden’s Gate symbol resting on top.

I hover above John, my knees supporting me and my hands resting once again on his chest. My breathing is uneven and my mind is racing to comprehend the reality of what is taking place but I shake my head to clear my doubts.

_There’s time to regret this later- but right now._

_Right now, I want this._

_I need this._

John reaches down but stops before touching me, his eyes asking for permission and against my better judgement- I nod my head. His touch sends me forward, his fingers curl inside of me and I lay down on top of him, bare skin electrified by the contact.

Already aroused, it takes no time at all for John to feel satisfied that I’m ready for him. My mouth finds his and he moves his hands to my back in another embrace as he lines himself up to enter me.

He hesitates and pulls back from me, and my gut clenches with fear that he’s changed his mind but there’s a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“I want you to say it,” John whispers in a sultry tone.

“What?” I ask, voice edging with a whine as I move against his hand.

John reaches down with one hand and circles my clit with skilled fingers, drawing an impatient groan from me.

“I want you to say _yes_ Deputy. I want you to _confess_ that you want this- that you want _me_.”

I sit up slightly, bandaged wrists placed on either side of his head and I give a reluctant nod, but I deny him an audible answer.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. That is _not_ a confession,” John states.

He places his hands back on my hips, grip tight and lines himself up again but hovers just below me. I attempt to bring myself down to meet his hips, impatience and pride driving me- but John’s bruising hold keeps me from accomplishing my act of defiance. I growl in frustration and John lets out a victorious chuckle.

His hips raise off of the mattress and the slick head of his shaft brushes against my center, evoking a deep moan from me and my body shivers with desire.

“John,” I moan, pleading with him.

_I may be on top, but I am not the one in control here._

John smirks at me and rises from the bed again but denies me once more at the last second.

“Ah,” I gasp and attempt to dip down to meet him but he won’t allow it.

“It’s just one little word, Dep,” John breathes.

He lifts up again, this time slightly entering me and I feel my resolve breaking at the seams.

“Say it.”

I shake my head and he lowers himself again.

“Say. It.”

He rises up once more, entering a little further but not enough to do anything aside from stir my desire and when he pulls back again- I can no longer take it.

“Yes!” I cry, voice splintering with raw need.

Content with my confession and burning with his own need, John rewards me by entering me fully with a swift and deep thrust. My back arches, a heavy moan ripping from both of our throats and I feel myself tighten around him.

We remain like that for a moment, relishing in the carnal pleasure of our drunken union. But soon the drive for _more_ takes over and we begin moving together, finding a rhythm that suits us and with each snap of his hips I draw closer to my end.

My breath becomes uneven before his; coming in short pants between a string of mumbled curses and begs for more.

John keeps up his unrelenting pace, guiding my hips to his and occasionally moving his hands to cup my breasts or grope my ass. He’s whispering praises to me but I’m unable to concentrate on anything else but my building release.

“John,” I gasp as he snaps his hips at just the right angle.

John notices and pulls out to re-enter full force at the same spot and with that powerful thrust- I come undone on top of him, collapsing against his chest. The young herald follows shortly after, wrapping his arms tightly around me as he rides out his own release- consequences be damned.

My body feels like butter melting in his arms. Sweat slicked skin sticks to one another as we catch our breath. The room feels empty without our voices filling it, and I welcome the silence.

A few moments pass and our breathing finds a calming balance, my exhales mirroring his inhales- our entangled bodies synchronized.

John brushes some of my hair back from my forehead and places a chaste kiss there, breathing a sigh of contentment and breaking the stillness I had been enjoying. I lift my fingers to lightly trace the planes of his chest, pausing to outline the occasional Eden’s Gate tattoo and my mind races.

_What now?_

The unspoken question hangs in the air, an anvil waiting to fall on the fragile illusion of peace we’ve created for ourselves. I shift against John, propping myself up on his chest to look down on him.

His eyes meet mine, silently imploring me to remain there- if only for a little longer- but I know that I can’t.

“I need a shower,” I announce awkwardly.

Disappointment flashes in his blue depths- a knife in my stomach- but John nods his head and offers me a small, understanding smile.

“Of course.”


	6. Chapter 6

The shower is merely an excuse to put space between us. To have a physical door separating us so that I can try to sift through this drunken haze and _think._

I peel myself off of John and stumble towards the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I turn on the shower and I’m about to jump in when I catch a glance of my reflection.

_Oh no…_ The first thing I notice is that my hair is a mess- but that’s fine. Easily fixed.

What worries me is the blatant hickey marring the skin of my neck- not to mention the bruising marks on my hips.

“John, you bastard,” I whisper without any real malice as I tentatively poke at the sensitive skin. I sigh, defeated and much too tired to concern myself with it any longer.

Steam billows from the shower and the hot water beckons to me. I turn on my heel, intent on ignoring my reflection for the time being and I find myself faced with John’s naked form lounging against the now-open bathroom door. Despite the situation, I find myself flustered by his forwardness.

“I need a shower too. Besides, it’s for the best that I’m in here.” John states, moving to shower and opening the door to the shower for me in a mockery of chivalry.

_The best for whom?_

I eye him as I enter the shower but don’t argue, instead I stew in my own thoughts and contemplate the wild turns that this evening has taken.

_Here I am- back in the shower._

_First after a particularly unpleasant visit from Faith and now after sleeping with John…_

_This is too much to process._

John lightly snags my arm before I step under the spray of the water. I angle my head back to him, confusion contorting my features.

“Your bandages,” John remarks, “you need to keep them out of the water or we’ll have to redress them.”

“Ah,” I reply holding my wrists up.

_This is problematic. I can’t very well wash my body without my hands._

As if reading my mind, John steps into the shower with me and closes the door behind us, his large figure towering over me.

“Here, raise your arms and I’ll wash you. After all, I am the Baptist- it’s my duty to cleanse sinners.”

A genuine laugh rasps from my throat at his unexpected remark. The memory of the last time John joined me in the water resurfacing in my mind in stark contrast to our circumstances now.

“Yes, _sinners_ like me,” I remark sarcastically.

I rest my hands on John’s shoulders as his soapy hands clean and caress my body. John mouth sets into a line, no longer joking and it occurs to me that perhaps I struck a nerve with my reply.

“We are helping you. _I’m_ helping you dear,” he continues earnestly.

He trails off, eyes darkening with an emotion that I can’t quite place but his hands continue to massage my skin as if our conversation hadn’t taken this serious tone.

I don’t agree with him- but I don’t argue either. After all, he genuinely believes that he is helping me, even if it is misguided. At the very least, he doesn’t seem intent on killing me at the moment.

John seems content with my silence and kisses my forehead for the second time this evening, before reaching around me to shut off the water.

“I think it’s time you got some sleep.”

This time, I hum my agreement and step out with him to dry off.

I wrap the towel tightly around my torso and follow John back into the bedroom, feeling a strange disconnect with the disheveled state of the bedding and the ripped clothes tossed to the floor- as if I hadn’t been on that very mattress moaning John’s name mere minutes ago.

The aforementioned man, disappears into his closet to retrieve a new set of clothing for the two of us and I feel a certain anxiety setting in at the thought of climbing back into bed. Despite certain _distractions,_ the memory of Faith’s visit is still fresh and I don’t feel excited to go back to sleep and chance her presence again.

John emerges from his closet and hands me a fresh set of clothing. I drag the pants on first, somehow feeling more comfortable with my chest exposed than my lower half and as I pull the shirt over my head, I catch a glimpse of John watching me from the corner of his eye but when the fabric is no longer covering my face, he pretends as if nothing happened and instead remakes the bed.

I watch him silently as he does so, uncertain of what to do with myself. With his back turned to me like this- and my hands free of restraints- it feels awfully tempting to attack him. To try something to just get out of here and suppress the memory of sleeping with him.

_So why don’t I?_

I can’t answer the question for myself- for fear of what I might say. I could continue to lie to myself and say something along the lines of ‘it’s not the right time’ or ‘building false trust until I can escape’ but even I wouldn’t buy that anymore. Something worse has paralyzed me.

John turns looks up as he straightens out the comforter, completely oblivious to my inner conflict and motions for me to lay down on the bed.

This time, John misinterprets my hesitation.

“We don’t umm… I’m not going to ask for round two,” John explains, his cheeks tinted red.

“I’m not worried about that,” I reply with a small scowl.

“Oh…” John’s eyebrows crease in concern- an expression that I’ve grown accustomed to from him.

“Is it the bandages?”

I shake my head and sigh slightly, my fingers worrying with the hem of the borrowed shirt as I debate whether or not to be honest with him.

“Come here,” John beckons to me, laying down on the bed and gesturing next to him.

I give in and crawl to his side, settling against him.

Even if the only available option is the psychopathic Baptist- I would rather his company than none.

We lay there for a while in silence and gradually my breath evens out and I my eyelids grow heavy.

_Tomorrow…_

_I’ll escape tomorrow…_


End file.
